Waiting for the World to End
by RandomW07
Summary: As the apocalypse draws near, Norway sits at the edge of a cliff and reflects on how far humanity has fallen. When the world is ready to rebuild, Denmark searches for his husband and finds him at the edge of a cliff, waiting for something Denmark cannot see.


**I'm not fully happy with the ending, but I didn't want to write 1000 words of pure angst, so I added Denmark's bit in. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

He sits at the cliff edge and waits.

A bitter wind blows his hair across his face, grey clouds overhead promising a storm unlike any other. Beneath him, the earth rumbles, a low growl that causes animals to flee in terror and trees to shiver and shed their leaves. Far below, waves swallow the sharp rocks, hiding them from the fragile boats that navigate the coast. Every inch of his land screams hostility, cursing the guardian meant to protect it.

When was the last time his land rejected him so? Centuries ago. So many years have passed, Norway can barely remember it. He was only a child back then, ignorant of his purpose, the special status that sets him apart from regular humans. He knew only uncertainty, the thought of a united people foreign to him, aches tearing his fragile body apart from the constant fighting. Borders between his land and that of his neighbours fluctuated with every battle, every skirmish. Small wonder his land refused to acknowledge him when its own loyalties were divided.

Now, however, its hatred poisons his mind. It leaves Norway huddling at the cliff edge, knees held against his chest, nails digging into the worn fabric of his trousers, trembling uncontrollably. A rabbit trapped in a fox's jaws, helpless, destined to a swift demise. His land rejects him, blames him for the wrongs his people have caused, accuses him of enabling their passivity and greed.

What can he do? The time to act came and went a long time ago, reason and compromised ignored in favour of pride and wealth. Those who signed the death warrant passed away decades ago, leaving their descendants to pay the price of their arrogance without a hint of regret. Now his land fades a little more each day, devoured by the ocean, stolen by Norway's neighbours, destroyed by chemicals, denied the ingredients for life. Norway is dying, and there is nothing he can do to save himself.

He knows nothing but discomfort. His chest burns with the deaths of his people, their breaths stolen away by new diseases without a cure. Every felled tree, every building pulled under the waves causes his skin to itch. His vision blurs from the smoke and ash that choke the inhabitants of his forests, countless creatures extinguished before humanity can learn of their existence.

Failure. No word could describe the current situation more accurately. Norway has failed to protect his home and those who share it with him. What does it matter that others have failed? What does it change that he isn't the only one to suffer? It's been decades since he last saw another nation. For all he knows, he's the last one left.

He used to dwell on the fates of loved ones every waking hour, countless moments taken up by reminiscing old memories and convincing himself they'd be alright. His little brother, isolated in a land of fire and ice. His husband, whose lungs burst from the ocean's pressure. His old friends, at war over precious resources neither can afford to spare. When the ache that blossomed in his chest grew too painful to stand, he banished them to oblivion.

He loathes his human mind for refusing to forget them entirely, for yearning for normalcy. Iceland turning red from embarrassment from a well-placed joke... For his ears to ring from Denmark's unbearably loud voice... Sweden's intimidating stare... To roll his eyes at Finland's terrible taste in names... He misses them, he misses them so much his heart feels as though it's shattering with the mere thought of them.

His vision blurs again, a shuddering sigh rushing out of his lungs. Habit spurs him to rub the silver band that hugs his finger, a bittersweet reminder of the man he's loved for centuries and will continue to love until his immortal body turns to dust.

Unnecessary, he remembers saying. What use is marriage when their relationship depends on the actions and thoughts of their people? What need is there for such a trivial thing when their love transcends human concepts? It's funny, really, how obsessed Denmark is with humanity. He finds their silly ways and curious rituals fascinating, quickly becoming enamoured by the romanticized idea of marriage. Still, what harm is there in humouring him?

At sea, at the border between their respective countries, they swore their vows and exchanged rings. Their sole witnesses were the creatures only Norway could see, and the ocean that gave them life. What need was there for anything bigger?

How different it had been from Finland and Sweden's wedding! Every nation was invited. A few humans too, standing out with their wide eyes and nervous demeanour. With the help of alcohol, any hope for a civil reception vanished, and the ensuing brawls kept everyone entertained for the remainder of the evening.

It's been too long since such an event took place. In this decaying world, nothing sparks hope, nothing can soothe his fears. Instead, death stalks empty streets, war echoes in the distance, famine knocks on the doors of the greedy and pestilence infects the home of the innocent. And Norway waits, in agony, for it all to be over.

A powerful gust buffets him, a feeble attempt to push him nearer the edge. The ocean far below beckons him. It always has, he's spent so many years navigating it, it feels more like home than the land he sits on. It yearns to embrace him. It yearns to whisper sweet nothing into his ears as he sinks into its depths, to a world of blissful memories and potential futures destined to never see the light of day.

"Come," it murmurs, "what does the world need you for? Come and rest for a little while, until this all blows over."

Who is he to ignore its call, to cling stubbornly to land, land that despises him, that wants nothing more than to watch him drown? Who does he think he is, to sit here and wait for better days?

"A coward," he mutters, the bitterness that poisons his heart finally spilling out his lips.

Thus, he digs his heels into the mud and waits patiently, until Death comes for him in person, while the world he's watched over for centuries crumbles to dust.

* * *

He's been waiting for so long moss grows on his clothes and cobwebs cling to his hair. His skin is pale, eyes dark, lips cracked, nails embedded with dirt. The colour has long since left his clothes, now a faded grey covered in dirt and mud. His form is skeletal, his face gaunt.

Finally, he is healing. With every action his people take, every attempt his land makes to cure itself, he slowly regains his humanity.

The sky is clear tonight. Stars pierce through the darkness for the first time in a century, shedding light on the world below them. Leaves rustle as a gentle breeze blows, carrying the song of owls and crickets wherever it goes. Waves crash against the rocks, coating them in a thin layer of mist before retreating. The earth is silent, content to simply listen to the sound of the surface. At long last, Norway is at peace.

After a century of hostility, the land's reverence towards its nation is plain to see. The moon casts her glow upon him and only him, nocturnal creatures sing his praises, insects perch on his fingers briefly upon flying past him, and countless flowers circle him as though in prayer. It's as though this secluded area has become a holy place, where nature can venerate a deity the world has long forgotten.

And suddenly Denmark is an intruder.

How many years has it been? How many decades has he been searching, approaching people with his rusty Norwegian to ask whether they've seen a man who must look so different to the one on his photo, a man he can only hope is still alive? How long did he wait in his own country for Norway to come looking for him before realising his husband wouldn't come? Too long. Too many years during which optimism turned to desperation, hope to terror.

And now he's found him again, he's unsure as to what to say. Although Norway looks frail, body slumped with exhaustion, heart undoubtedly mourning the loss of countless people and wildlife, he somehow manages to hold himself with pride. He has a government, a boss he can learn to ignore, a society to silently judge. For the first time in a century, he can fulfil his duties as a nation.

So why does he keep up this solitary vigil?

Norway has always behaved in ways Denmark will never understand. They differ in so many ways, people frequently wonder how they've made it this far. Denmark always struggles to find the words to explain it to them. He wishes that they could feel it, like he does. He wishes they could feel his heart warm at the mere sight of his husband. He wishes they could feel the sharp longing that fills his body, the desire to talk to him again, to run his fingers through his hair. He wishes they could feel the sensation of Norway's lips against their own. He wishes they could feel all of that and so much more, because if they did, the question as to how they were still together would never cross their minds.

What if Norway hates him? What if Norway has chosen to isolate himself for good? Has Denmark given him enough time to recover? Such questions buzz at the back of his mind, but he ignores them. Enthusiasm bubbles within him, a surge of energy bursting from his heart to the rest of his body, causing a grin to spread across his face.

Why should he hesitate? If Norway doesn't want him here, he'll tell him. So, without giving doubt time to settle, he shatters the barrier of tranquillity Norway has surrounded himself with.

"So this is where you've been hiding! You wouldn't believe how long's it's taken me to find you!"

Norway's entire body jolts. His head snaps round, eyes widening in shock. A ghost of a smile graces his lips, a soft whisper Denmark doesn't catch is snatched away by the wind. One trembling hand pats the dirt beside him, the only invitation Denmark needs. Their shoulders touch, their hands intertwine, they lean into one another as though they'd never once parted. It's been too long. Much too long. He can almost feel the tension leave his husband.

Denmark has always hated silence. Silence brings back memories of aftermaths: a lost war, an argument with a friend, the death of a loved one, the quiet horror of the end of the world. Consequently, he fills it with endless chatter. He tells Norway of happenings all over his country, good news and utter nonsense. His voice is hoarse, his lungs protest as he talks until his breath runs, but it's worth it just to see Norway's head tilt in that particular way it does when he's listening intently, just to hear him express his emotions via familiar sighs, hums and sarcastic remarks. Every now and then, his ludicrous tale is rewarded with a chuckle that makes Denmark giddy with joy.

The world meeting takes place next week. Norway admits how he isn't looking forward to it - too many people, too much noise - though there are nations he wishes to see again, conversations that need to be had. He shares his concerns about Iceland, who has lost so much yet clings so desperately to life.

There's nothing Denmark can say to reassure him. "Iceland's a stubborn kid, he'll be fine." He knows from experience that words like that don't help. Instead, he brushes calloused fingers against the smooth ring Norway wears, a gesture he knows will soothe more than words ever could.

They talk until the sky is painted with streaks of pink and gold. When the sun pokes its face over the horizon and cicadas and cockerels take over the crickets' and owls' mantle, Norway pushes Denmark away.

"Your boss will start to wonder where you've gone."

"You mean she'll send a search party out and tell your boss where _you_ are," Denmark grins.

The pointed glare he receives is enough to confirm his theory and Denmark laughs. He's missed this, this comfortable relationship they both have. Reluctantly, he stands up, stretches away the stiffness in his limbs.

"Guess I'll see you next week then?"

Norway hums.

"Might pop down before then. Depends on the weather. Would probably make my boss happy, he thinks I'm unsociable."

"You definitely are."

Norway pulls a face.

"Don't have time for idiots, that's all."

"That why you've been hiding out here all this time?"

Norway hesitates, gaze lingering on something Denmark cannot see. He shrugs.

"Something like that."

And Denmark knows not to pry any further. Norway will tell him, when he feels ready. Besides, they have an eternity ahead of them.

And as he turns his back to the man he loves and starts the long trek back home, Norway sits by the cliff edge and waits for the world to rebuild.


End file.
